


The Other Three Houses

by Lyn_Laine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Female Harry, Female Harry Potter, Hufflepuff Harry, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Harry, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, Young Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyn_Laine/pseuds/Lyn_Laine
Summary: In three different timelines, Harry is a girl, Jasmine Potter. In three different timelines, the first major thing that changes about a female Harry's life is that she is Sorted into the three other houses besides Gryffindor. How much do nurture and house teachings matter in changing nature?Meanwhile, other forces are at work in Hogwarts and a different Slytherin boy who made all the wrong choices exists in each timeline...  And Jasmine Potter takes even less shit from them than Harry Potter would have.Early rewrite of a previous story.Warning: Author updates so frequently that stats are not always indicative.





	1. A Matter of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapters will be devoted to pre-Sorting business and changes. After that we get into the big house divergence, Sorting, Hogwarts, and the meat of the story.
> 
> I will do the houses in rotating turns, so starting in chapter three, you will get a chapter that is Ravenclaw 1, then a chapter that is Slytherin 1, then a chapter that is Hufflepuff 1. Then Ravenclaw 2, Slytherin 2, Hufflepuff 2, etc. All chapters will be labeled in the great list at the top of the page, so if you want to read solely a certain house or even solely a certain end pairing, eventually you can. Each Fem Harry will have a different end pairing, so check the tags and these first two chapters.
> 
> Please keep in mind that I will be including house bias in this story. What I write does not necessarily reflect my views.

The Time Room was always eerie, but most Unspeakables got used to it.

Amelia Bones was on duty late one night in the Department of Mysteries. She was tired (night shift) and bored (currently working as an Unspeakable while studying law). But Amelia had been tired a lot lately. A great deal of her family had died in the Blood War against the Dark Lord, which had only recently ended.

This forgave a little bit her boredom with the fanciful surroundings she found herself in. Most walls in the Ministry had windows showing illusive, nauseatingly pleasant images, as if to hide the fact that the British wizarding government had to live and work from underground. But not the Department of Mysteries. No windows, very few doors.

This did not, however, make it boring.

The walls were black-tiled, the constant lit torches on the walls in the dark underground space flickering with a glowing, bluish-white light. Amelia was patrolling through the inner workings of the department, just on shift; most research happened during the day, but the experiments were such that they had to be guarded during the night, kept an eye on.

Dealing with concepts like intelligence, love, time, death, and the future, the research in the Department of Mysteries was not such that it could really be kept unguarded overnight. They had a single room full of pure love so strong it melted most solid objects. 

Anything could happen.

Amelia was walking through the Time Room into the Hall of Prophecy, which was right next door. She was yawning, trudging; she felt like a security guard and did not particularly enjoy it. This was not what she had joined the Ministry to do, but she knew it was important in a way, so she kept her bitching to herself.

The Time Room sparkled with beautiful, dancing light. It had hundreds of shelves and tables covered with everything from magical clocks to Time Turners of all sizes and powers. The bigger the Time Turner, the greater the power. At the end of the long room was the massive, sparkling crystal bell jar, in which anything put inside went through various levels of aging, from pre-birth to old age - a good indicator of what the Time Room could do itself. 

Beyond, in the Hall of Prophecy, there was a long, cold chamber with high ceilings and towering shelves lit with blue-flame candles. Crowding every shelf, right up to the high ceiling, were prophecies held inside dusty little glass orbs. Some of them were already fulfilled, some of them never would be, and some had yet to get their chance to come to pass.

Amelia was almost to the Hall of Prophecy.

Suddenly, there was an explosive, shaking _BOOM_ from a level above.

Amelia Bones would learn later that an illegal hybrid magical creature that was half dragon had escaped and exploded into a courtroom where a trial was being held for a lower-level former Death Eater. The Death Eater did not manage to escape, mostly because all the Dementors hanging about then descended on the sudden heightened frenzies of emotion in the courtroom and in the end it took twenty-four trained Ministry wizards to sort out the whole mess.

So no one was around to hear Amelia Bones scream down in the Department of Mysteries.

Not knowing what was going on, and still on edge from the war that had killed her family, she lost her balance and was shoved into a table by the earthquake-like shake. A massive Time Turner fell crashing, as if in slow motion, from the table to the floor, knocking itself past the crystal bell jar, which shook and jangled every so slightly, emitting some silvery dust into the breaking Time Turner. Then the Time Turner tumbled through the door into the Hall of Prophecy and broke with a crash, gold dust settling over everything…

Just as a prophecy, a little glass globe-like ball, got loose with the shaking from the massive shelves inside the Hall of Prophecy and rolled into the center of the falling cloud of Time Turner dust. The entire two rooms flashed pulsating gold for a moment, and when Amelia stood to her feet and ran over…

She swallowed, feeling suddenly nauseous.

“Oh, God,” she said.

The prophecy that had been dusted was not a prophecy that had already been fulfilled. Oh, no, it couldn’t have been that easy. It was the most recent prophecy of all.

The one concerning young Jasmine Potter and the Dark Lord Voldemort. 

It had just been covered in Time Turner dust, mixed with silvery dust from the crystal bell jar, which regulated life all the way from pre-birth to death. And something had just changed - Amelia didn’t have to be smart or trained to know that.

Now it was her job to run damage control and figure out what.

-

Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold was having a very bad day.

A hybrid magical creature near-escape, a Dementor onslaught, and now this. Unspeakable and lawyer-in-training Amelia Bones stood nervously in front of her massive desk in her private office, ready to spell out what she thought she’d uncovered.

“So,” Millicent Bagnold said tiredly, with the air of someone who had been Minister for much of Voldemort’s reign of terror, “what’s the damage?”

“Well, it’s not good,” said Amelia, wincing. “And I will, of course, resign if -”

“It’s not your fault, Amelia, and you’re not resigning,” Millicent Bagnold interrupted. “You’re one of our best up and comers and, forgive me, one of the only in your family left. We need you.”

Amelia looked down.

“... Okay.” She took a deep breath and looked up, her eyes steely. “Here’s what I think.

“I believe we have separated from the point of the accident into three different timelines. The focal point of the difference is young Jasmine Potter of the Prophecy. I can tell you that two things have changed. One of those things hasn’t happened yet.”

“... And the other?” said Millicent Bagnold, wondering how this could get any worse than them creating alternate universes and ripping a hole in the fabric of existence.

“I believe one person has become prominent in each Jasmine Potter’s life - but it’s a different person in each timeline. In one case, we got lucky. The child was already here.”

“... Already here?”

“Right. Because here’s where it gets weird.”

It hadn’t gotten weird?

“In the other two cases, that child’s parents were never able to have a child. In the other two cases, that child has been replaced - by a different person each time. A different person from the past. That person and their immediate infant circumstances have all come into the future with them in the other two cases, as if they had all always been there.

“But we won’t know who. Because the magic of the very fabric of time and prophecy itself is blocking anyone from seeing these two people as younger incarnations of their older selves! Not even they'll recognize each other!”

Amelia finished triumphantly.

“And even if we did know…” said Minister Bagnold slowly, “we couldn’t punish any of these innocent children simply for existing, or because of our mistake. So you’re telling me… two people could be running around with the exact same name and appearance right under our noses and we’ll never recognize it?”

“As far as I can tell,” said Amelia, “but something could change, I don’t know. This is all very new and experimental magic.”

“So… what universe are we having this conversation in?”

“All three. Remember, the second change hasn’t happened yet. And until that second change happens, the only thing different about any of the three timelines is that one child different is running around in the world. Which…”

“Is not enough to change things significantly until much later on,” Minister Bagnold realized. “Certainly not enough to change this conversation. So all three sets of us are having this conversation.

“... All these files need to be classified,” she said, her mind working. “Immediately. Until we can figure out how to undo this.”

“... That could take decades, Minister,” said Amelia, wincing. “And by that point it might already be too late. If we try to combine three divergent universes together into one… We might kill people. Innocent people. Or worse. I don’t know what could happen.”

-

Down in the Hall of Prophecy, unnoticed because the ball had been placed back on its shelf for another fourteen years, three new labels had appeared on the underside of the glass orb containing Jasmine Potter’s Prophecy.

_Tom Riddle. Jasmine Ravenclaw._

_Draco Malfoy. Jasmine Slytherin._

_Severus Snape. Jasmine Hufflepuff._

The answer was right there under their noses. But nobody ever thought to look. At least… not until much later, when the damage had already been done.


	2. Robes and the Hogwarts Express

Ravenclaw

Jasmine was set on the footstool at Madam Malkin’s next to a boy about her age, tall, pale, and movie star handsome with dark hair and eyes.

“... Hello,” she said, smiling.

The boy looked over at her and there was a long pause. At last he raised an eyebrow. “Hello?” he said coldly.

“Hogwarts, too?” Jasmine bravely tried to soldier on.

“I suppose.” The boy turned to face the mirror again.

“You suppose?” Jasmine laughed.

“What, do you think I’m funny?” said the boy, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I think you won’t even admit whether or not you’re attending Hogwarts in the same year as me,” said Jasmine incredulously. 

“Well obviously I am. Do try to keep up,” said the boy rather nastily.

“Oh, so you’re so above me you won’t even admit to us being in the same year,” Jasmine interpreted, raising her eyebrows.

The boy looked away. “At last,” he said, bored, “she finally gets it.”

“You really aren’t interested in making any friends at this new place, are you?” Jasmine asked rather sarcastically.

The boy hesitated for a split second. Then he turned back to Jasmine. “I do not need friends,” he said coolly. “But are you implying something? I could hurt you, you know.” A very ugly look had carved his handsome face. “I could _force_ you into being friends with me.”

“Now, sir, that’s quite enough!” said the woman who was fitting the boy’s robes at last, pausing in shock. The boy turned to her, his eyes flashing rather dangerously -

“Be careful,” said Jasmine, realizing something. “Do try not to get thrown out of the first wizarding shop you’ve ever been allowed into.”

The boy hesitated once more - and turned to her. “How did you figure that out?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m guessing Muggleborn orphan. Not used to friends or family, and not used to the wizarding world,” said Jasmine, smiling slowly, her eyes gleaming. “It’s a front,” she realized. “You’re self conscious.”

The boy stared at her for a split second, and then a slow, cruel smile split his face. “Oh, on that last count,” he said, “it is _hilarious_ how wrong you are.”

Jasmine’s fitting was done. She hopped off the stool. “Well then lucky for us,” she said, “we never have to meet again.” She walked away.

By the time she met him again on the Hogwarts Express, his mask had already fallen into place. She’d gotten lucky - she’d originally met him on one of the first days.

She was sitting and snacking with Ron in their compartment when the door slid open. The pale, dark-haired boy from Madam Malkin’s was standing there. 

“It’s you,” he said for a second, his face losing some of its smiling charm. Then he rallied. “They’re saying all up and down the train that Jasmine Potter is in this compartment.”

“That’s me,” said Jasmine calmly, smiling slightly, but her eyes were sharp and watchful. “And what do you have to do with me?”

“I am fascinated by anyone,” he said with a slow smile, “who seems to have power over death.” He spoke softly, charmingly. “Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked politely.

But it was a front, everything inside Jasmine was screaming at her. It was an act.

“Yes, I do mind,” she said, and anger flitted across his mask. “What is your name?”

She’d purposefully asked him for a giving piece of information. He frowned.

“Tom Riddle,” he said coldly after a moment.

“Riddle.” She tried it out. “Well, unfortunately for you, Riddle, I’m not interested in anyone who’s interested in me. Especially not because of my fame. And I’m _certainly_ not interested in someone who is willing to put up a different face for me because I’m famous, or because they want to impress.”

He tried to rally. “Perhaps you got the wrong impression -” he began softly, putting a careful hand on her shoulder, concern coming over the mask.

“When I was nobody you said you were above me and you threatened me,” said Jasmine, her face and voice turning ugly. “But now that I’m famous, you’re _interested?_ Because I’m supposed to be _dead?”_

“I can see how it looks -”

“I’m turning you down,” she said with finality. “The answer is no. And cut the act. It’s actually creepier than when you’re being genuine.”

At the word _creepy,_ anger filled Riddle’s face. He lashed out with a wave of his hand, as if doing magic - and Jasmine started as the magic rebounded and hit Riddle; he was slammed up against the compartment door.

“... Why could you touch me the first time but not that time?” she whispered to herself, staring at him. “That hasn’t happened since…”

She and Riddle stared at each other across the distance.

Then slowly he stood, and straightened his robes. “I will discover your secrets, Jasmine Potter,” said Tom Riddle softly, and he left the compartment, leaving a somewhat intimidated silence in his wake even at eleven.

“Definitely a Slytherin,” said Ron, pale, speaking up for the first time and shuddering. “Weird. Usually only Purebloods are like that.”

“What’s Slytherin and what’s wrong with it?” Jasmine asked as Hermione came in, “and what’s all this about blood?” And the conversation continued from there…

-

Slytherin

Jasmine was set on the footstool next to a small, slim boy, pale and sharp-featured, a bit androgynous with grey eyes and white blond hair.

“Hello,” said the boy. “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Jasmine.

He looked her down and up. With a boy he might have had a conversation starter, but with a girl he simply asked curiously, “What’s your surname?”

Jasmine frowned. “Why would that matter?”

“Oh, God, a Muggleborn,” he said in a tone of great disgust, sneering and looking away.

“You don’t like Muggleborns?” Jasmine asked, rather offended.

“No one does!” said the boy in cruel delight, now definitely sneering. “You’re right up there with blood traitors, Muggles, and magical creatures on the list of things that don’t belong here.”

Jasmine was shocked by the cruelty as tears filled unshed in her eyes.

“And now she’s going to cry,” he said, looking away, trying to sound bored but clearly enjoying himself.

“Come on, dear, let’s move you somewhere else,” Madam Malkin whispered, and she moved Jasmine quickly to another part of the store.

“See you at Hogwarts!” the boy jeered after her in delight.

So when he opened the compartment door of the Hogwarts Express and saw her sitting there, he knew he’d stepped in it.

“They’re…” He cleared his throat. He’d come alone, again perhaps because she was a girl. “They’re saying all up and down the train that Jasmine Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

“Yes. Look at you,” she said, smiling tightly. “The probably rich Pureblood snob from Madam Malkin’s, come to see Jasmine Potter on the Express.”

The boy pushed on. “I… made a mistake, at the shop. I thought you were… someone you weren’t. My name is Malfoy,” he said with faux confidence. “Draco Malfoy.”

Ron gave a cough which might have been hiding a snicker.

“Think my name’s funny, do you?” said Malfoy. “No need to ask who you are. My father says all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” He turned back to Jasmine. “You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

He held out his hand, but Jasmine didn’t take it.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” she said coolly. “You look surprised. What? You hate everyone who isn’t like you and you thought I’d _appreciate_ that? It must be very lonely, inside your little world. In spite of all the wealth and family status you so obviously flaunt. I’m not your latest trophy.”

Malfoy’s hand came down and he flushed. “You’ll want to be careful with that kind of attitude,” he began. “Your parents didn’t know what was good for them either, and they -”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” Jasmine interrupted with her eyes narrowing, “and suppose _you’re_ actually the inferior one.”

Even Ron stared.

“... You’ll regret this, Potter,” said Malfoy spitefully, and he left.

“Slytherins,” said Ron in a disgusted tone of voice, just as Hermione came in.

“What’s Slytherin and what’s wrong with it?” Jasmine asked…

-

Hufflepuff

Jasmine was stood on the footstool next to a peculiar-looking boy - not ugly, just odd looking, a nerd but not necessarily in the bad sense. He had broad aquiline features but a thin face, pale skin, a small skinny body, and a mop of black hair. He obviously didn’t have anyone who took good care of him - his clothes were poor and strange, his hair was greasy.

“... Hello,” said Jasmine curiously. “Hogwarts, too?”

“I’m not a specimen for you to gawp at,” said the boy bitingly. “You’ve been staring at me for over a minute.” His eyes were cold and black.

Jasmine looked down, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh… sorry.”

He looked her over. “Muggles,” he decided contemptuously, and looked back at the mirror.

“What’s wrong with that?” Jasmine asked offended.

“Nothing,” said the boy, “for about half the population.”

“And the other half?”

A cruel, slow smile filled the boy’s face that was somehow more humiliating than words. 

Jasmine looked down in the silence, shocked tears filling her eyes.

“Don’t bother,” said the boy snidely. “Not even crying could make you pretty.”

“Come on, dear, let’s go somewhere else,” said Madam Malkin, and she hurried Jasmine away to another part of the shop.

And the boy stepped into the train compartment, and yet again he paused, his eyes widening.

“I seemed pretty unassuming, didn’t I?” said Jasmine. “Let me guess - Halfblood? You’re not a Pureblood, but you’re not a Muggleborn. I’m guessing bad family.”

The boy’s teeth clenched, his nostrils flared. “My name is Severus Snape,” he began, “and I was hoping to - become your friend,” he forced out, every word dripping with contempt.

“Wow,” said Jasmine, mock impressed. “Was it hard, forcing that sentence out of your mouth?”

 _“Excuse me?”_ Snape half snapped, half growled.

“You don’t really want to be my friend, Snape,” said Jasmine. “But you’re attracted to the promise of supposed power and supposed superiority. You’re cruel and you hate Muggles. I’ve already seen your hand.”

“... I apologize,” he forced out, like every word pained him.

“That’s a good start,” said Jasmine. “But I don’t think you mean it. I’d like to see it in your actions. Not your words.”

At last, Snape lashed out. “And you think you’re so above me you can dispense _judgment?”_ he hissed.

“I think I can in my own compartment,” said Jasmine coldly. “Get out.”

Snape flushed deep red and stormed away.

“Slytherin,” said Ron in disgust, as Hermione entered, “definitely.”

“What’s Slytherin and what’s wrong with it?” Jasmine asked…

And all three trains bore all three girls toward Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we have Ravenclaw 1. Then Slytherin 1. Then Hufflepuff 1. In other words, we start!


	3. Ravenclaw 1

“Potter, Jasmine!”

Jasmine stepped up from the line of first years and in front of the Great Hall for her Sorting. It was a vast place, thousands of candles floating in midair over four long tables laid with glittering gold plates and goblets, where the rest of the students and the ghosts shining misty silver were sitting. All those faces staring at her looked like pale moons in the flickering candlelight. Above was a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, as if the Great Hall went straight on the heavens; the ceiling had been bewitched to look like the sky outside, according to Hermione. Tapestries hung on the walls and up at the front of the Hall was the High Table where the teachers were sitting; Jasmine and the other first years currently had their backs to it, their eyes facing the other students.

At her name, whispers had suddenly broken out all over the Hall and people were actually standing, craning, to get a better look at her. The name Jasmine Potter carried recognition everywhere, it seemed.

Jasmine sat down on the stool and the pointed, ripped and patched black Sorting Hat was slipped right down over her eyes, blessedly blocking out the sight and sound of hundreds of people staring at her. She was less nauseous from nerves that way. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the Hat.

She waited.

For a while there was silence, and she wasn’t sure whether or not that was normal. But finally, the Hat began to speak as a small voice in her ear, so only she could hear. 

“Well, well, well,” it said, “isn’t that interesting… A matter of time…”

“What do you mean?” Jasmine thought at the Hat, puzzled and a little worried.

“Oh, nothing. I’ve just figured out something I don’t think most other people have. But why not? I’ll play along and up the ante.”

There was silence as Jasmine tried to make sense of just what on earth this meant. Were all the Sortings this incoherent and riddle-like?

“Sorry, I was consorting with the others,” said the Hat at last.

“The others?” Jasmine thought, but the Hat didn’t answer.

“Let’s see how adaptable you are, Miss Potter, indeed how adaptable anyone is. This will be an interesting little experiment. For you, RAVENCLAW!”

Jasmine relaxed. The Sorting Hat had been totally incomprehensible, but she’d been Sorted into a house and that was what was important. More than that, she hadn’t been Sorted into Slytherin or even Hufflepuff. Ron and Hermione had said themselves that Ravenclaw wasn’t so bad, and Hagrid didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

The Hat was lifted off her head and she was so relieved she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. She walked shakily toward the Ravenclaw table, second from the left looking from the front of the Hall, and several Ravenclaws actually stood up to shake hands with her as she joined them. She sat amidst the big group of other Ravenclaw first years, their Prefect sitting nearby.

She could see the High Table properly now. Hagrid at the end gave her a thumb up and grinned. Professor Dumbledore sat in a big gold chair in the table center. Professor Quirrell was there, too, looking very absurd in a large purple turban.

Only a few people were left to be Sorted. One of them was Tom Riddle. When his name was called, he came forward and Jasmine had to hand it to him, though he was a little paler than usual he hardly seemed nervous. He sat down calmly on the stool and the Hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Tom Riddle went quietly over to sit at the cheering Slytherin table.

Finally it was Ron’s turn. Jasmine wasn’t sure what to hope for. On one hand, she wanted Ron to be with her; on the other hand, Ron wanted to be a Gryffindor. But she didn’t have long to worry. The Hat immediately shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” Ron went with relief to sit with his brothers, Hermione, and Neville over at the Gryffindor table. Jasmine watched from a distance. She didn’t know anyone in Ravenclaw.

But she supposed she would meet people. Professor McGonagall had said she would take classes with her house, sleep in her house dormitory, and spend free time in her house common room. And she supposed she could still be friends with Ron and other people at the Gryffindor table. 

After Blaise Zabini was made a Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll and took the stool and the Sorting Hat away.

Professor Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the whole Hall, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you!”

He sat down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Jasmine gave an amused smile. She wanted to ask in idle amusement if Dumbledore was a bit mad, but she was a little shy as she didn’t know anyone in Ravenclaw.

Then she looked down and gasped, her eyes widening. The dishes in front of them were suddenly piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Jasmine, but she’d never been allowed to eat as much as she liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Jasmine really wanted, even if it made him sick. She piled her plate with a cut of bacon and steak, a bit of roast beef, a bit of roast chicken, a slice of Yorkshire pudding, a small pile of roast potatoes, and a side of peas and carrots. Then she dug in. It was all delicious.

“The peppermints are after-dinner mints,” said the Indian girl with the long black braid beside her helpfully.

“Oh!” Jasmine now felt rather embarrassed; that seemed obvious. “Thanks. That makes sense.” She put a single mint on the side of her plate for later.

The Indian girl gave a small smile, seeming rather amused.

“New Ravenclaws!” A tall, buff, muscular teenage brunette boy, well put together and their Prefect, was smiling around at them. “The Gryffindors never do this, they find it ridiculous, but the house Prefects are actually supposed to orchestrate this first opening feast with the first years. We have a set way we do this. First, I’m going to pass around these sheets. Each sheet is full of a bunch of questions and answers. The answers provided are not the only answers, but they are the only Ravenclaw answers. It’s not a test, you don’t have to do anything, but first thing we acquaint you with some of the traits that technically define Ravenclaws - your new house. Just read through for your own information.”

Curious, Jasmine took one of the sheets that was being passed around and then passed them on. Still eating their food, the first years took a few minutes to silently read through the sheet. Jasmine was determined to do well in her new house, so as she filled herself with warm and filling new food, she took the answers to heart.

-

How would you like to be known to history?

Ravenclaw answer: The Wise.

Which of the following would you most hate people to call you?

Ravenclaw answer: Ignorant.

Given the choice, would you rather invent a potion that would guarantee you:

Ravenclaw answer: Wisdom.

After you have died, what would you most like people to do when they hear your name?

Ravenclaw answer: Think with admiration of your achievements.

Once every century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers that adapt their scent to attract the unwary. If it lured you, it would smell of:

Ravenclaw answer: Fresh parchment.

Four boxes are placed before you. Which would you try and open?

Ravenclaw answer: The ornate golden casket, standing on clawed feet, whose inscription warns that both secret knowledge and unbearable temptation lie within.

What kind of instrument most pleases your ear?

Ravenclaw answer: The piano.

Four goblets are placed before you. Which would you choose to drink?

Ravenclaw answer: The foaming, frothing, silvery liquid that sparkles as though containing ground diamonds.

You enter an enchanted garden. What would you be most curious to examine first?

Ravenclaw answer: The silver-leafed tree bearing golden apples.

A troll has gone berserk in the Headmaster’s study at Hogwarts. It is about to smash, crush and tear several irreplaceable items and treasures. One is a nearly perfected cure for dragon pox; another is student records going back 1000 years; another is a mysterious handwritten book full of strange runes. In which order would you rescue these objects from the troll’s club, if you could?

Ravenclaw answers: Cure, book, records. Book, cure, records. Book, records, cure.

Which would you rather be:

Ravenclaw answers: Imitated.

Which of the following do you find most difficult to deal with?

Ravenclaw answers: Hunger. Being ignored.

What are you most looking forward to learning at Hogwarts?

Ravenclaw answers: Every area of magic I can. Transfiguration (turning one object into another object). 

If you could have any power, which would you choose?

Ravenclaw answers: The power to change your appearance at will. The power to read minds. The power to speak to animals.

Which of the following would you most like to study?

Ravenclaw answers: Ghosts. Centaurs. Goblins.

One of your house mates has cheated in a Hogwarts exam using a Self Spelling Quill. Now he has come top of the class in Charms, beating you into second place. Professor Flitwick is suspicious of what happened. He draws you to one side after his lesson and asks whether or not your classmate used a forbidden quill. What do you do?

Ravenclaw answer: Tell Professor Flitwick the truth. If your classmate is prepared to win by cheating, he deserves to be found out. Also, as you are both in the same house, any points he loses will be regained by you, for coming in first place.

Which road tempts you most?

Ravenclaw answer: The cobbled street lined with ancient buildings.

A Muggle confronts you and says that they are sure you are a witch or wizard. Do you:

Ravenclaw answer: Ask them what makes them think so.

Late at night, walking alone down the street, you hear a peculiar cry that you believe to have a magical source. Do you:

Ravenclaw answer: Withdraw into the shadows to await developments, while mentally reviewing the most appropriate defensive and offensive spells, should trouble occur.

You and two friends need to cross a bridge guarded by a river troll who insists on fighting one of you before he will let all of you pass. Do you:

Ravenclaw answer: Attempt to confuse the troll into letting all three of you pass without fighting.

Which nightmare would frighten you most?

Ravenclaw answer: Standing on top of something very high and realizing suddenly that there are no hand- or foot-holds, nor any barrier to keep you from falling.

Moon or stars?

Ravenclaw answer: Moon.

Forest or river?

Ravenclaw answer: Forest.

Dawn or dusk?

Ravenclaw answer: Dawn.

Black or white?

Ravenclaw answer: White.

Left or right?

Ravenclaw answer: Left.

Heads or tails?

Ravenclaw answer: Heads.

-

That was the end. It made for interesting reading. Jasmine thought she had a better sense of Ravenclaw now. She could definitely adapt to this. Looked at in this format, all of the answers made a lot of sense to her.

She put down her sheet and ate quietly while she waited for everyone else to finish.

Once everyone had finished, their Prefect beamed. “Now,” he said, “we get to my speech. I know speeches can be boring, but I hope this one isn’t. Because I’m not giving you platitudes or talking about myself or Hogwarts.

“My job is to introduce you to Ravenclaw house. So here we go.

“I’m Prefect Robert Hilliard, and I’m delighted to welcome you to Ravenclaw house. Our emblem is the eagle, which soars where others cannot climb. Our house colors are blue and bronze. Our common room is found at the top of Ravenclaw Tower, behind a door with an enchanted knocker. The arched windows set into the walls of our circular common room look down at the school grounds: the lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch and the Herbology gardens. No other house in the school has such stunning views.

“Without wishing to boast, this is the house where the cleverest witches and wizards live. Our founder, Rowena Ravenclaw, prized learning above all else - and so do we. Unlike the other houses, which all have concealed entrances to their common rooms, we don’t need one. The door to our common room lies at the top of a tall, winding staircase. It has no handle, but an enchanted bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. When you rap on the door, this knocker will ask you a question, and if you answer it correctly, you are allowed in. This simple barrier has kept out everyone but Ravenclaws for nearly a thousand years.

“Some first-years are scared by having to answer the eagle’s questions, but don’t worry. Ravenclaws learn quickly, and you’ll soon enjoy the challenges the door sets. It’s not unusual to find twenty people standing outside the common room door, all trying to work out the answer to the day’s question together. This is a great way to meet fellow Ravenclaws from other years, and to learn from them - though it is a bit annoying if you’ve forgotten your Quidditch robes and need to get in and out in a hurry. In fact, I’d advise you to triple-check your bag for everything you need before leaving Ravenclaw Tower.

“Another cool thing about Ravenclaws is that our people are the most individual - some might even call them eccentrics. But geniuses are often out of step with ordinary folk, and unlike some other houses we could mention, we think you’ve got the right to wear what you’d like, believe what you want, and say what you feel. We aren’t put off by people who march to a different tune; on the contrary, we value them!”

Their plates including Jasmine’s empty mint wrapper suddenly cleared, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared along the Ravenclaw table. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

As Jasmine helped herself to a treacle tart, Robert Hilliard continued.

“Speaking of eccentrics, you’ll like our Head of House, Professor Filius Flitwick.” Robert pointed to a tiny, cheerful little old wizard with a pointed face pleasantly chatting with another Professor at the High Table. “People often underestimate him, because he’s really tiny (we think he’s part elf, but we’ve never been rude enough to ask) and he’s got a squeaky voice, but he’s the best and most knowledgeable Charms master alive in the world today. Charms, of course, is changing the properties of any given person or object - without Transfiguring them. It’s a complex art, and he’s the master. He is also a former duellist. His office door is always open to any Ravenclaw with a problem, and if you’re in a real state he’ll get out these delicious little cupcakes he keeps in a tin in his desk drawer and make them do a little dance for you. In fact, it’s worth pretending you’re in a real state just to see them jive.

“Ravenclaw house has an illustrious history. Most of the greatest wizarding inventors and innovators were in our house, including Perpetua Fancourt, inventor of the lunascope, Laverne de Montmorency, a great pioneer of love potions, and Ignatia Wildsmith, the inventor of Floo powder. Famous Ravenclaw Ministers for Magic include Millicent Bagnold, who was in power on the night a certain someone survived the Dark Lord’s curse -” Here, he smiled at Jasmine, who blushed and smiled shyly as all the other first years turned to stare at her. “- and who defended the wizarding celebrations all over Britain with the words ‘I assert our inalienable right to party.’ There was also Minister Lorcan McLaird, who was quite a brilliant wizard, but preferred to communicate by puffing smoke out of the end of his wand. Well, I did say we produced eccentrics. In fact, we are also the house that gave the wizarding world Uric the Oddball, who used a jellyfish for a hat. He’s the punchline of a lot of wizarding jokes.

“As for our relationship with the other three houses: well, you’ve probably heard about the Slytherins. They’re not all bad, but you’d do well to be on your guard until you get to know them well. They’ve got a long house tradition of doing whatever it takes to win - so watch out, especially in Quidditch matches and exams.

“Speaking of Quidditch, while Ravenclaws are not under-handed in tactics and strategy, we do have our own way of playing Quidditch. We prefer to use psychology against fellow players. If a girl is playing the Gryffindor team, for example, it’s her job to block the nearest male Gryffindor player. Gryffindor boys are known for being chivalrous even to the point of ridiculousness, and as sexist as this sounds, they usually won’t crash their way past a girl, not even one of the opposing team. It’s psychological tactics like this that we teach our Ravenclaw players. Are we doing anything violent or against the rules? No. But we’re still more likely to win. We’re tricky, just like that sheet says.

“As for the Gryffindors, they’re okay. If I had a criticism, I’d say Gryffindors tend to be show-offs. They dive recklessly into things and like being looked at while they do it. I think that’s why they don’t do this introduction - they already assume they’re the best. They’re also much less tolerant than we are of people who are different; in fact, they’ve been known to make jokes about Ravenclaws who have developed an interest in levitation, or the possible magical uses of troll bogies, or Ovomancy, which (as you probably know) is a method of divination or future-telling using eggs. Gryffindors haven’t got our intellectual curiosity, whereas we’ve got no problem if you want to spend your days and nights cracking eggs in a corner of the common room and writing down your predictions by the way the yolks fall. In fact, you’ll probably find a few people to help you.

“As for the Hufflepuffs, well, nobody could say they’re not nice people. In fact, they’re some of the nicest people in the school. Let’s say you needn’t worry too much about them when it comes to competition at exam time.

“Speaking of exam time, I will be hosting a study group for interested first-years during the first few weeks in the Ravenclaw common room. For Ravenclaws, learning and academic grades are both all-important and a competition. I am going to show you Ravenclaw trade secrets for achieving top marks. Best if you have all your tools with you right from the beginning.

“I think that’s nearly everything. Oh yes, our house ghost is the Grey Lady.” He pointed down the table at a quiet, reserved, beautiful ghost of a tall woman in a long, medieval dress. “The rest of the school thinks she never speaks, but she’ll talk to Ravenclaws. She’s particularly useful if you’re lost, or you’ve mislaid something.

“Finally and once again: well done on becoming a member of the cleverest, quirkiest and most interesting house at Hogwarts. Thank you.”

He relaxed in relief as the first years clapped politely.

“It was a long speech to prepare,” he admitted, smiling.

Jasmine, bright and interested, was by now smiling as well and much more excited about her new house. Ravenclaw, she had decided, was by far the best - and if her Gryffindor friends couldn’t see it, well, nobody was perfect. She had also learned a few things about Robert Hilliard: he was a Quidditch player, which explained his muscular build, he was rather calm and intellectually arrogant as a Ravenclaw and he valued eccentricity deeply.

“Now, finally, we go around the first year circle and everyone introduces themselves,” said Robert. “Let’s start with the girls and then go to the boys.”

Jasmine was now looking at her future dormitory mates.

“I’m Mandy Brocklehurst,” said a matter of fact girl with chestnut curls and cat-eye glasses.

“My name is Sue Li,” said a quiet Chinese girl, nodding hesitantly, with long straight black hair and a heart-shaped pale face a bit like the moon.

“I’m Morag MacDougal,” said a a punk-looking young girl with black eyeliner and brown hair, giving a casual, waving little salute.

“Padma Patil,” said the serious Indian girl with coffee skin tinged bronze and a long braid of thick black hair. “My twin sister Parvati is in Gryffindor, which makes sense as she’s a lot more… feminine and extroverted than me.”

“And my name is Lisa Turpin,” said a shy little girl with curls of blonde hair and a sweet, dimpled face.

Everyone turned to stare curiously at Jasmine.

“I’m Jasmine Potter,” she said, smiling cheerfully, a little exasperated. “As I’m sure you already know.”

“And now the boys,” said Robert.

“I’m Terry Boot,” said a tall, serious but friendly, quirky looking boy with brown hair tinged bronze.

“Michael Corner,” said a dark, brooding sort of boy who was hunched over and looked like he didn’t want to be here.

“And I’m Anthony Goldstein!” said the boy beside him, his polar opposite, an Italian Jew with a square-jawed face, a big friendly open smile, and golden curls that were a sharp contrast to his olive complexion. He, like Robert Hilliard, was quite good-looking, Jasmine decided with a shy, secret smile.

“I’m Stephen Cornfoot,” said the final boy, a skinny, quiet, nerdy sort of boy, more the type Jasmine had hesitantly expected before learning more about Ravenclaw.

“Excellent!” said Robert, pleased. “That’s everyone! I will lead you to the Ravenclaw commons and dormitories a little bit later, but for now, enjoy the rest of your dessert and the beginning of term announcements.”

Jasmine finished dessert with a few strawberries, washing down the treacle fudge, as she began some friendly chatter with the Ravenclaw girls around her. “I wonder what classes will be like,” she put forward.

“Well, supposedly there are seven for the first two years,” said Padma thoughtfully. “Defense, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, Astronomy, Charms, and Transfiguration. Then in third through fifth, we cut down on those and start taking electives. We can choose three electives maximum. There’s Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, Arithmancy (the study of predicting the future using numbers), Divination (the study of predicting the future using more artsy, airy methods), and Care of Magical Creatures. In sixth and seventh year, we decide what classes we want to specialize in and only take intensive classes in a select few subjects.”

“It’s all decided by what career you want,” said Mandy bossily and all-knowingly. “You’re supposed to get career counseling at the end of fifth year. I heard you can also request something like Alchemy or Healing, but it requires a special petition from a variety of students.”

“Let’s be honest. In the freely provided subjects, Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies are useless unless you’re specializing in something. Same with History,” said Morag, perpetually bored, head in her hand. “It’s easy to see what the three elective choices should be, and at least one class you should easily cut out.”

“Really, that’s how it is?” said Sue uncertainly, as perpetually worried as Morag was perpetually bored.

“Don’t worry,” Lisa comforted her gently, hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure you can do anything you’d like.”

“Not if you want to be practical,” Morag argued, and Lisa and Sue looked defensive and uncomfortable as a debate began.

On Jasmine’s other side, Mandy and Padma were now chatting. “My parents are Alchemists,” said Padma. “I might request… Healing does sound interesting, though.”

“Well…” said Mandy, and they began going off, trading ideas.

Beyond them, Jasmine could see Anthony, Terry, and surprisingly Michael becoming best friends. Michael talked with a kind of intensity; he was not as standoffish as Jasmine had supposed, at least once you got him going, and Terry and Anthony seemed interested. Poor Stephen looked rather left-out, though, picking at his plate.

Jasmine was about to go over to him, but for some reason she happened to look around - and it happened quite suddenly. A teacher with pale skin, a greasy mop of black hair, a thin face, and aquiline features was talking to Professor Quirrell in his absurd turban. That teacher looked past Quirrell’s turban straight into Jasmine’s eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Jasmine’s forehead. 

She cried out and clapped a hand to her head.

“Are you alright?” said Padma beside her in concern. Everyone at their part of the table, including Robert, had turned to look at her.

“Yeah… it’s nothing,” said Jasmine, looking up, lowering her hand slowly. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come, but it left her worried.

“Flash headache? Nerves, probably. But we can’t have that right before classes start,” said Robert, smiling.

“Here, try this,” said Lisa suddenly. She looked down at the table. “Warm milk with cinnamon in it!” Suddenly, a goblet appeared on the table. “Drink this.” She handed it to Jasmine. “It helps with sore throats and headaches.”

Jasmine drank, and she did start to feel better. “Thanks,” she said, smiling weakly. “That does help.” Lisa smiled back, shy but sweet. “Hey… does anyone know who that teacher is talking to Professor Quirrell? Quirrell’s the one in the turban. Teaches Defense.”

“Know Quirrell already?” said Robert curiously. “That’s good. He’s talking to Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House and Potions Professor. He was vying for Quirrell’s position, but didn’t get it. Since they’re talking, maybe they’ve buried the hatchet.”

Jasmine’s first instinct was to dismiss him as evil as a Slytherin. Her second instinct told her as a Ravenclaw that no house was entirely good or evil - Slytherins were just a little cutthroat, and what Ron said and how Riddle acted might not be representative. He wanted to teach Defense, did teach Potions… none of the things about Snape were automatically shady. So what could that have been? The only thing Jasmine had been looking at besides Snape was the back of Quirrell’s turban.

Jasmine watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at her again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

“Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

“I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. 

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Jasmine laughed, but she was one of the few who did.

“Is… he serious?” Anthony muttered uncertainly.

“He must be,” said Robert, who sounded puzzled. “It’s odd, because he usually tells us why we’re not allowed to go somewhere. The forest, for example, as I’m sure you know, is a sanctuary full of dangerous magical creatures. But he’s… not giving a reason for this one. I genuinely didn’t even know this announcement was being made.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Jasmine noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snake-like, into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

And the school bellowed:

-

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees, 

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they’re bare and full of air, 

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we’ve forgot, 

Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, 

And learn until our brains all rot.

-

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. It was funny, but it also meant the whole school had to sit and silently watch them sing the last few lines. They seemed in their element, not remotely apologetic. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

The Ravenclaw first years followed Robert through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. People in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed. Everything seemed alive at Hogwarts Castle; even the suits of armor whispered at them as they went by. Twice Robert led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases until they all stopped in shock, half moving toward the walls, when they heard a loud shriek.

They flattened themselves against the walls just in time as a little man with a wide mouth and wicked dark eyes came zooming past them in midair, cackling, fleeing on down the castle.

“Peeves,” said Robert, “the school Poltergeist. The Slytherin house ghost, the Bloody Baron, is the only one who can control him. He likes waiting for the first year Gryffindors at the beginning of every school year and then chucking things at them as they head for their house. He would pick on the Hufflepuffs, but he never meets them as they’re underground. Also, I’m half-convinced a really short-tempered Gryffindor pissed Peeves off about two hundred years ago. He loves picking on Gryffindors.”

Finally, they reached the Ravenclaw commons. “We’re right across from the library,” said Robert, pointing across the corridor. “See?”

Across the darkened corridor lit by flaming torches and moonlight from high windows was a humongous, gold-lined, magnificent library fit for a castle. Hundreds of thousands of shelves of massive tomes going right to the high ceiling. Jasmine noticed a whole section, however, which was roped and chained off.

“What’s that?” she asked suddenly, pointing.

Robert chuckled. “Typical Ravenclaw, wanting knowledge and going right to the most forbidden knowledge of all. That’s the Forbidden Section. Dark magic. Only people with teacher’s notes and the oldest students studying advanced Defense have access.”

They climbed a tight, winding stone staircase set into the other wall, and found the door at the top, with no lock or doorknob but a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Robert knocked, and a silvery female voice issued from the knocker, which opened its mouth and suddenly started speaking.

“What belongs to you but others use it more than you do?”

So this was what the riddles were like. As Robert turned politely to the first years to let them figure it out, Jasmine played the question over in her mind, trying to see it like a puzzle, like a challenge. She didn’t feel good at any of this sort of thing, but like with attending Robert’s study group and trying to keep up excellent grades, like with being tricky or hiding instead of charging forward or being honest and straightforward with teachers or being open minded to eccentricity, she had to try and fit in at Ravenclaw, didn’t she? 

What belonged to her? No - what belonged to everyone individually? Not much. A body. A mind. People didn’t use those things more than she did herself. A soul. Same thing. Not everyone had a family. Not everyone had friends. What could the riddle mean…? What else did she, Jasmine, have…?

Jasmine looked up suddenly. “A name,” she said, eyes widening in realization. “It belongs to me, but I don’t speak about myself in the third person!”

“Well reasoned,” said the silvery female voice, and the door swung open of its own accord to allow them entry. Jasmine smiled brightly and walked inside curiously, interested, with her confidence increased. That hadn’t been so bad. It had even been kind of interesting.

“Good job,” said Robert as they entered. The other first-years seemed impressed.

“It’s just what made sense,” said Jasmine, smiling sheepishly.

They had entered the Ravenclaw common room. It was a wide, circular, airy room with arched windows hung with blue and bronze silks. It had a midnight blue carpet covered with stars, which was reflected in the domed, painted ceiling. Like the Great Hall, Ravenclaw Tower felt like it opened straight on to the heavens.

During the day, looking out the windows, Jasmine realized Ravenclaw would have fantastic views not only of the grounds, as Robert had said, but of the surrounding green mountains and the wide, clear sky above. It felt like you were flying. The whole airy room would be filled with light from the windows.

The room was furnished with tables and chairs for study time. But there was other furniture, mostly dark blue and done in almost eighteenth century French lounge style. The fire was a wood-burning stove with lovely embroidered cushions for sitting and warming one’s feet set around it. The walls were covered with moving portraits carrying plaques identifying them as famous inventors. The whole open floor gave a feeling of wonderful space. A spacious nook full of bookshelves was set into one wall, and Jasmine spied a “book sign out” sheet on the Ravenclaw notice board.

By a door on the other side of the room was a white marble statue of a tall, beautiful woman with a marble diadem crown on her head of long hair. Jasmine walked up to her and her small, mysterious smile. “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” read her diadem.

“Who is this?” Jasmine asked softly, curious, still looking upward.

“Our house founder,” said Robert. “Rowena Ravenclaw. She donated her own personal library to her house. Those are the books you can check out.”

They followed Robert through the door beside Rowena Ravenclaw, and up two separate staircases, one for boys and one for girls. Jasmine thought the dormitories were probably in turrets set off the main tower. Down a corridor, through the door with the plaque labeled “First Years,” the Ravenclaw girls found their beds at last. All of their things had already been brought up and set beside each bed.

The beds consisted of six four-posters in the wide, round room with its windows and attached bathroom. The beds were hung and covered with sky-blue silk eiderdowns.

Too tired to talk much, Jasmine and the other Ravenclaw girls pulled on their nightgowns and fell into bed. The wind whistling softly around the windows relaxed Jasmine and lulled her to sleep, keeping her peaceful and calm the entire dark, blissful night long.


End file.
